


Building Bridges

by ava_jamison



Series: Coming Home [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comic), Red Robin (Comic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison





	Building Bridges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sistermagpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistermagpie/gifts).



Tim’s comlink crackled—static, then Dick’s voice. “Code blue.”

He switched to Nightwing’s old frequency. “Red Robin here.”

“Change of venue. Can you meet me at Safe House Five?”

“Yeah, but I’m—it’s going to take me a while to get across town.”

“Good. I got a quick stop to make on the way.”

Tim’s tires screeched as he slid his bike in a hard ‘U’ and punched the gas. “Still going to beat you there.”

“Go ahead and try.”

\--------------------------------------

Dick got there first, though. By the time Tim got to the place—a small apartment in a nondescript complex a couple of blocks from the industrial district—Dick had already changed into sweats and a t-shirt. “Extra pair on my bed—they’re too small on me anyway.”

“I’m too tired to shower.”

“Stink, then.” Dick punched him in the shoulder as he headed for the bedroom. “Fine by me. It’s just us.”

But the sweats and t-shirt were soft and clean and smelled like home, so Tim took a quick shower and joined Dick in the kitchen, his hair damp.

“Fit okay?”

“They’ll work. Got supplies?

“Why’d you think I stopped?” Dick reached into a canvas duffle bag he’d thrown on the cabinet and pulled out a cookie jar. Alfred’s cookie jar.

“Dick, you didn’t—”

Dick had the good graces to look at least a little bit sheepish. “Hey, I wanted to ditch the car anyway, grab my bike, so I just thought...”

“Alfred is going to totally kill you.”

“It’s for a good cause! I was in a hurry; he was asleep. Besides, when he sees you he’ll be too happy to care, and by then it’ll be back anyway.”

“Dick, he’s totally going to kill you. What kind are they?” Tim took the jar and lifted the lid.

“Chocolate chip.”

“At least you’ll die for a worthy cause.”

“See? Worth it. Here.” Dick pulled out a package of Oreos. “Take these, too.”

Tim shifted the jar to the crook of his arm and took the package. “What else you got in there?”

“The usual. Milk, Ovaltine, Twinkies—no wait. I couldn’t find any Twinkies.”

“Zingers? Donettes? Ring Dings?”

“Score.” Dick triumphantly brandished the box. “Think fast!”

Halfway to the kitchen’s built-in bar, Tim turned just in time. Cellophane crinkled and the cookie jar’s ceramic lid rattled as he caught the box of snack cakes on top of everything else. “Hey, I got cookies here. And cookie jar!”

“Well, _somebody_ has to make the Ovaltine.” Dick pulled two glasses from the cabinet.

“What gives?” Tim said, sitting down on a bar stool and pulling out a chocolate chip cookie.

Dick closed the fridge. “With what?”

“Why here?”

“Wanted a chance to talk to you all by myself first.” Dick stirred the milk one more time and the spoon clattered as it hit the sink. He pushed a glass of now chocolated, malted milk to Tim and pulled out the stool across the bar. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Everything.” Dick grabbed a Ring Ding and started peeling off the wrapper.

“How much time do you have?”

“As long as you need, Timmy. I want to hear the whole adventure.”

“Adven—it wasn’t an adven… ” He trailed off.

“See?” Dick crammed the snack cake in his mouth.

“Dick, I didn’t leave to have an adventure.”

Dick nodded. “I know,” he said around the cake.

Tim lifted the lid on the cookie jar and pulled out one of Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies. “I left because I had to.”

Dick nodded again, still chewing. He washed the cake down with a gulp of milk. “I know.”

“No, you don’t know.”

“Loosen up, little brother. You’re going to pulverize that cookie.” Dick nodded toward his hand. “You're almost making a fist. But the cookie is your friend, Tim! Especially an Alfred cookie!”

Tim rolled his eyes and dunked it in his Ovaltine.

“I heard…” Dick raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. “There was some talk from Lucius that seemed to involve a _girl_.

“It’s not like that, Dick. I mean, I don’t think it is.”

“Uh huh.” Dick sounded incredibly smug.

“Dick…” Tim paused to give him a warning glare, hand in mid-air.

“You snooze, you lose, bro.” Dick grabbed Tim’s wrist and pulled the cookie up to his mouth. He made a snapping noise and bit half of it off. “Mmm!”

“Dick!” Tim stared at the soggy half-cookie. “Yours now.”

“More for me, Timmy.” Dick caught the thing as Tim dropped it into his hand. “All part of my nefarious plan. Now talk.”

Tim looked over at the window, blinds now closed. He looked at the clock on the wall and his hands in his lap.

Dick opened the Oreos and crinkled the plastic into a ball. “Ought to be in the cave for this.”

“What?”

“Spill, Tim.”

Tim sighed. Shook his head at the cookie Dick tried to hand him.

“So, let’s recap. You came back—and am I glad you did—”

“Really?”

“Of course, doofus! What a thing to say.” Dick reached across the bar and ruffled Tim’s still damp hair with his knuckles.

Tim pulled away, crossing his arms.

“What?”

“I still don’t get why you’d—”

Dick fingers combed one last swipe through Tim’s hair. “Don’t you?”

Inside, Tim felt something break. He couldn’t answer, or the tears welling up in his eyes would embarrass him. He was not going to cry.

“Do you think you’re the Lone Ranger or something?”

“What? No, I just—”

“You’re not the Lone Ranger, and you’re not alone, Tim. You’ve never been—”

“How can you even say that?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Dick looked at him and suddenly Tim just wanted to crawl into a hole and die, really die.

“Dick,” he said, his voice cracking a little, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For forgetting.”

Dick shrugged.

“Is that why you did it?”

“What?” Dick said, reaching for another Ring Ding.

Tim couldn’t keep the pain from his voice. “Why are you making me say it?”

Dick sighed. Stopped pulling the foil off the snack. “Tim…”

“You fired me, Dick. _Fired_ me.”

Dick went back to calmly separating the cake from its wrapper. “Can’t stay Robin forever.”

Tim slammed his hand on the bar top so hard his palm stung. “How can you—”

“Only two ways out of being Robin, Tim.” He covered Tim’s hand with his own, but Tim snatched it away.

“You did the same thing—” Tim closed his eyes, tight. Made a fist and released it. “How could _you_ of all people? You did the same thing to me.”

“Just now picking up on that, little brother?”

Tim surged up from his seat, making his stool teeter.

Dick caught it before it fell.

“You hated him for it.”

Dick was behind Tim before he was halfway across the kitchen. “Tim, please.”

Tim stopped. The tears were falling now, and much as he tried, he couldn’t keep them out of his voice. “I can’t believe you let me feel that. When you _know_ how it feels—”

“Tim.” Dick put his hands on his shoulders.

“You hated him when he—”

Dick slipped around to face him; pulled him close, into a tight hug. “I didn’t hate him.”

Tim let his forehead drop against Dick’s t-shirt. “I’m getting snot on your shoulder.”

“I don’t care. And I didn’t hate him. Not really.”

“You did! That’s why you wouldn’t come back.”

“I did come back, Tim,” he said, rubbing Tim’s shoulder blade. “Just like you, I came back.” He kissed the top of Tim’s head. “And just like you, I came back better, stronger and more my own man than I’d ever been—ever could have been—before.” Dick put his hand under Tim’s chin and lifted it to look in his eyes. “Isn’t that why you came back? Why you were able to come back?”

Tim snorted. “Well, I’m still pissed, but…” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Dick stroked his thumb under Tim’s eye, swiping away a tear, then re-encircled him with his arms for another hug. “There _is_ life after Robin.”


End file.
